


Still Water

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: sga_flashfic, M/M, Makeup Sex, Miscommunication, Swimming Pools, city exploration, it's complicated - Freeform, people are not always nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-22
Updated: 2005-06-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We found a bathhouse?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Water

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of thanks to chelle, elynross and sherrold for doing the beta on this. Originally started for the sga_flashfic community's "swimming" challenge by way of "city exploration".

"This looks similar to stepped wells I've seen in Central America," Corrigan said as the team entered the domed room. Gigantic stone steps and terracing led down to a deep central dish. Some of the ledges had smaller indented dishes on them, like the kiddie pool at a Holiday Inn. Across the room, beautiful stained glass doors, similar to French doors, led outside, where John thought he saw some smaller versions of the shallow dishes. 

"A dry well in Atlantis." Rodney folded his arms across his chest and glared at Corrigan. "Now there's a brilliant thought." 

"Reminds me of a water park. That place there," John gestured to a long flat area near the northwest corner, "might be a slide." 

Rodney gave him a glare and a chin lift for that one. Cool. 

"Maybe it was a community bath," Dr. Suzuki added, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the structures. "The alcoves would be for families and the large one in the middle for public bathing?" 

John scrunched up his eyes and looked at Corrigan. "We found a bath house?" 

"Possibly. Probably." He looked around, and his shoulders slumped. "It's a bath house." 

After they reported the discovery, there was a brief flurry as the geologists tried to determine how much of which kinds of rocks had been ground up to make the pools, and the chemists tried to determine the bonding material that held it all together, but everyone, the whole Atlantis team, from Weir on down to the last Marine, was too invested in having the system running to hold it up for long. 

John went to the lab a couple of days after they found the baths to invite Rodney to lunch, but Rodney waved him away. He was working on the power controls for the bathhouse. "Face it, the showers are great, and living on an ocean is cool, but the water is maybe thirteen or fourteen degrees on a good, sunny day." Rodney glanced up from his workstation. "That would be about fifty-five degrees to you." 

"Yeah, I got that, thanks." 

"Which is too cold to swim in for long without either a wetsuit or a strong interest in experimental hypothermia. Ha! Got it." Rodney turned back to his laptop again. 

"Surprisingly, the Ancients didn't supply us with wet suits, possibly because they didn't plan on living underwater," John said helpfully. 

Rodney glanced at him, and John smiled back, pleased to have gotten his first "fuck you, you fucking idiot, eh?" look of the day. Given that this was how all their interactions had gone lately, John took what he could get. 

Still, he thought as he left Rodney working in the lab, a beautiful warm pool, with lights that dimmed when you thought about them, perched high above that ocean — maybe what they both needed was a change of scene from common rooms, alien planets, labs, and hallways. Someplace relaxing, where they could forget the horrors of the last few weeks for awhile. Somewhere he could get Rodney alone. 

Rodney got the room on-line, and the reality of Corrigan's bathhouse was even better than expected, with the ledges giving way to mini-waterfalls, and each of the pools was a different temperature and depth, the central one being the most temperate. 

John had been right about the amazing waterslide, too. 

The room was built such that the transition from corridor to water was gentle and gradual. If you wanted to walk around the edge, you could, and never get wet; if you wanted to just dangle a few toes in the water, that was possible, too; or if you just wanted to dive right in and swim, that was an option, as well. John had forgotten how much he loved the water, and ended up spending a lot of his free time there. Old T-shirts and cutoffs became swimwear, though some nights, by tacit agreement, were clothing optional, so those that wanted to could hot tub in the buff. 

Well, warm tub, anyway. The water in the central pool was slightly cooler than body temperature, so no one worried about overheating. It was deep enough to swim in, and the ledges and underwater shelves provided places for groups to be social, while the alcoves and waterfalls provided more privacy for those that wanted it — like John. 

He scored one of the private alcoves one night by trading in a couple of favors, and nagged Rodney enough that he finally left his lab and joined in the fun. The rain drizzled down on them, and John knocked back some of the honeygold that Stackhouse's team brought back from MJ3-2X7 

"What is that?" Rodney asked, staring at the amber liquid. 

"I have no idea." John put the bottle up to his lips and drank deeply, letting the sweet liquid coat his tongue. "But it tastes like butterscotch." 

"Alcoholic butterscotch." Rodney snorted. "Sounds horrid." 

"It's not so bad. Reminds me of cream soda." John shrugged. "Try it." He held out the bottle. 

"No, thanks." Rodney shook his head, tiny water droplets rolling off of his hair and nose. "Last time I combined drinking with hot tubbing, I ended up naked on the roof of my apartment. I still have no idea how I got there." 

"Good call." John tipped his head back and savored the still-cold liquid trickling down the back of his throat. "However, this isn't alcoholic." He set the bottle on the edge of the tub and lay back, staring up at the stars. 

"It's not?" Rodney sounded interested now, and John grinned. 

"Nope," he said, turning his head enough that he could watch Rodney's reaction. "Just thick and sweet." 

Instantly, Rodney's had a finger up in the air and his chin titled upwards, his eyes glinting with the smart-ass comment that John was waiting for. The one that would be something similar to "like you." 

John lived for those kinda comments. Rodney was never one for giving compliments, and so John had to set them up on his own. 

Instead, Rodney paused, and brought his hand back down without saying anything. "I think I'll just leave that one there." 

Stupid Heightmeyer. He wasn't sure why she was trying to get Rodney to be more aware of what he said; everyone knew Rodney had few social skills, and you learned to deal with it, or else. John preferred it when Rodney spoke his mind, while this kinder, gentler Rodney tended to piss him off. "Suit yourself." 

He pushed down to the bottom of the tub, letting the warm water pour over him; he couldn't hear Rodney at all now, or see the stars, or the reflected light from the larger communal room. He crossed his legs tailor-style and sat on the bottom for a moment, breathing out and letting his bubbles float to the top. 

Before he reached a twenty count, he was done, and extended his legs, shooting back up to the top. 

When he surfaced, Rodney's eyes held a sharp fear in them, that John watched him squash. "I wish you wouldn't do that," he said calmly, though his tone implied that he would like to call in someone with sedatives and restraints. 

"I like the water. I was a lifeguard for a while. Summer job." John ran his hand over his face, clearing it off enough that if he blinked a few times, he could see. He told himself to calm down and let it go; Heightmeyer was doing her best, and maybe Rodney did need to learn to curb his tongue, just a little bit. It wouldn't hurt the rest of Atlantis for Rodney to not call anyone an idiot for just a single day. 

Thing was, if Rodney didn't insult him, how did John know he had his attention? Look at what he'd done tonight, just to try and capture a little of Rodney's interest. He'd had it all planned, bringing Rodney out here, enjoying the warm water and the night, even the almost sodas. But to really be complete, he needed Rodney to be himself, without those too careful tones and that too careful touch, like one of them was going to break — like John was going to break. 

For a moment, he wished something big had happened, some huge crisis that he could use as a crutch to explain why the argument had escalated so badly, but since they'd survived the Wraith attack, well, nothing seemed to be that big a deal. Nothing to explain why one minute, he and Rodney were laughing and joking about bad sci-fi movies, and the next, Rodney went all 'Halloween' on him, verbally taking chunks out of John's ego, building up to that one last comment: 

_"What is so difficult for you to understand?" Rodney rolled his eyes and waved his hands, caught up in his head, not really even looking at John. "I'll use small words for you: fighting, flying, and fucking. I can find five other people in Atlantis to do each one of those things as well or better than you. You are not unique."_

John thought he'd handled it well. He hadn't engaged, just bunched his hands into fists and walked away, then waited for Rodney to cool down. Okay, so it had taken the better part of a couple of weeks before they could talk normally to each other again, but they'd managed it. People fought; it didn't mean a thing. 

But people walked away, and it didn't have to mean anything, either. They'd been getting too close, anyway; everyone had noticed. Elizabeth had even suggested splitting up the team, having McKay head up a science team while John continued to do first contact. The memory of that meeting still killed him, but he knew how to plaster on a 'good idea' expression when he needed to. Besides, John had privately thought he needed the space too, right up until he realized that what he really needed was a chance to get his own head on straight. 

Being separated like that... He missed seeing Rodney. 

Somehow, though, Rodney didn't see it the same way John did. While John had been off communing with puddlejumpers and duty rosters, Rodney had checked in with Heightmeyer, and, well... It just wasn't working out. The distance was growing, and John had no clue how to fix it. 

He grabbed the bottle off the edge and drained it, feeling the water swirl around him as Rodney moved in closer. John didn't look at him; instead he looked back at the central room, hearing the faint voices of other people talking and laughing. 

He felt Rodney move over next to him, swirls of water caressing John's back and side. He could feel the hesitation, and then the water moved sharply, as if Rodney shook himself. "Whatever that stuff is, it smells terrible. You're swimming in it." 

There was warm affection in his tone, despite the harsh words, and John smiled slightly. That sounded much more like the old Rodney again, pre-sensitivity training. "I have two more, if you want to try it." 

He looked over at Rodney finally, who was looking at him through half-lidded eyes, his face and eyelashes dotted with water, a small smile playing over his lips. "Please." 

John rolled so that he faced the edge of the pool, and hefted himself over the edge, his dog tags clinking slightly against the rock. He padded over to his pile of clothing and searched through it to find the stubby green bottles. He picked them up, and stood, glancing at the main enclosure as he did so. 

He froze. Well, that was something he'd never expected to see in a million years. Kavanagh and Stackhouse were in the water, playing horse. Kavanagh had Beckett on his shoulders, while Stackhouse had Zelenka. The two teams were battling it out, and water was splashing everywhere. Kavanagh was grim-faced and determined while Stackhouse simply laughed. 

Kavanagh always had something to prove, and Stackhouse wasn't even aware that there was a competition going on. 

Ford would have been like that, too, once upon a time. The thought triggered a familiar gnawing feeling in his stomach, and John pushed it aside, concentrating on the 'non-competitive' competition in front of him. 

"Rodney, c'mere," John whispered, not taking his eyes from the struggle as Beckett planted his hand in the middle of Zelenka's chest and gave him a shove. Zelenka tumbled off of Stackhouse, and Stackhouse, suddenly unbalanced, whirled his arms for a moment before falling into the water himself. 

John thumbed off the top of one of the bottles and drank. Beckett raised his hands in victory, and Kavanagh smiled. Okay, it was an insane, power-mad smile, but it was the first one from Kavanagh that John had ever seen. "Will you look at that?" 

"Oh, I am looking, Major. I am looking." From the hot tub, Rodney spoke in a voice that was deep and dirty, and a small fire kindled in John's belly at the tone. 

He turned slowly, and stretched slightly, making his whole body long and lean. Rodney really used to like it when he did that. 

Apparently, he hadn't lost his touch, as Rodney's eyes took on a distinctly hungry look. "I really like what I see." 

John couldn't help reacting, his cock hardening under Rodney's intense gaze. He held the unopened bottle out, not looking away; his own voice came out a little ragged and rough. "You want to drink this in my room?" 

"Depends. You think they'd notice if we had sex out here?" 

John pursed his lips. "Pretty sure." 

"Then yes. I think we should go to your room." 

"Cool." 

He set both bottles down, grabbed Rodney's hand, and hauled him out of the tub. Rodney was half-hard, and John thought about going down on him, even though anyone who looked in their direction would be able to see. Instead, he rubbed his hand down Rodney's belly from his navel to his cock and gave it a couple of quick pulls, letting it slide warm and wet through his hand, enjoying the weight of it. 

"Not helping, John." Rodney covered John's hand with his own, stilling the motion. "Not if we're walking back to your room." 

"Carry the towel in front of you." He glanced at Rodney and knew he wasn't buying it. 

"How about we dress instead?" Rodney let go of John's wrist and pushed his damp hair out of his face. "Just for the walk to the room." 

"Kinda counterproductive, but okay." Reluctantly, he let go, and pulled on his pants and buttoned them. He didn't bother putting on a shirt, his dog tags dangling down his bare chest; he rolled up the striped boxers he normally swam in with his T-shirt and picked up the bottles with his other hand. "You ready?" 

Rodney didn't look like he had moved, and the expression on his face made John consider the fastest path back to his room. It was hunger and need and awe and twenty other emotions all rolled into one, and John ached under the attention. "Rodney?" 

"Hmm? Ah. Right." He blinked a couple of times, and the tension eased enough that John thought he might be able to breathe. "I'll just...get dressed, then, shall I?" 

"Might be good." 

When Rodney was ready, they moved as quickly as they could through the central room and into the hallway, and the transporter just beyond that. No one was around. Either people came to nude swim night, or they stayed far away; there didn't seem to be much of a middle ground. 

When the transporter door closed, John kissed Rodney briefly, rich and sweet. Then he selected the location closest to his quarters, put down the clothes and the sodas, turned and pressed Rodney back against the wall, his thigh sliding between Rodney's. 

Rodney was hard, and John could feel the length of him; he gave a slow grind of his hips, watching Rodney's mouth, waiting for that little sighing groan that he'd missed these past few weeks. Everything within John was humming now, focused on having Rodney near him again; this was going to be so good— 

Rodney wrapped his arm around John's back, his hand gripping John's ass. "Oh, yeah," he said, pressing himself up against John as he pushed down with his hand; with his back against the wall, he had enough leverage that John felt himself lifted slightly as Rodney thrust up. 

Oh, that felt good. It really had been awhile. Lately he hadn't even felt like making a date with his own right hand, but here with Rodney, he felt the spark again, felt himself harden, his attention focused on taste and touch and breath and skin. God, it was great. 

But then Rodney moved, and somehow things didn't quite work out right, and John ended up getting an elbow in his gut. "Ow, Rodney, jeez." He rubbed his stomach and stepped away, giving Rodney more room. "If you wanted me to back off, you should have said something." 

He'd meant the words to be teasing, but from Rodney's reaction, he knew that they hadn't come across that way. 

The light in Rodney's eyes faded, the half-grin melting like ice cream on a hot day. The transporter opened, and Rodney grabbed the sodas from the floor with a polite, Canadian "Let me." 

Walking down the hall, Rodney kept his distance, and John felt like shit for making him act like that. He could feel the tension between them rising with each step that they walked in silence, at a loss as to what to do next. Damn it, this wasn't how it was supposed to end tonight. He wasn't supposed to make things worse. 

But Rodney's kindness, his consideration, set John's teeth on edge. It made him feel manipulated, like it was all smoke and mirrors and promises in the dark, like nothing real could ever happen. He closed the door behind them, and when Rodney gently set the bottles on the table, John finally cracked. 

"You can just put them on the table, you know. It doesn't matter if they break." 

"You went through a lot of trouble to get these. I just wanted you to know it was appreciated." 

"Fine. I get that. Now would you just drop the act, please?" 

Rodney blinked at him. "What act?" 

"Cut the crap." John stalked over to him. "I don't have to be treated like fine china. I'm more of a paper plate kinda guy, the sturdy kind that doesn't fall apart when you pile a bunch of junk on it." 

"I don't treat you like that." 

"Yes, you do." 

"I distinctly remember saying several unkind things to you, and you _walking out on me_ ." 

"Yes, I did. I needed some space." 

"Well, maybe I need space, too." Rodney folded his arms across his chest. 

"And how's that working out for you?" 

Rodney sighed and unfolded his arms. "It really sucks." 

Yeah, it did. "You said we needed time apart." 

"We did. I was biting your head off. I still am." Rodney looked away, his chin stiff, and momentarily closed his eyes before jerking back to look at John again. "It's like this every time we get together, John. It's just not working." 

"Look, I didn't push you tonight. I invited you, that's all. Just some time in a hot tub, nothing to it." 

"Don't you think I know that?" He stood and rubbed his hand across his forehead. "I get that I'm not the greatest guy to live with, that what I call brutal honesty, most people call deliberate cruelty— " 

"Did Heightmeyer say that?" John couldn't imagine a shrink ever telling anyone something like that. He realized he'd clenched his hands into fists, and forced them to smooth out. 

"She didn't have to. Every relationship I've ever had from high school on has ended the same way. I just can't control my tongue, and once I get on a roll, it just keeps going." He paced over to the window and looked out. "I can't stand what I become, can't stand the hurt and fear I see in their eyes." He turned back toward John, his determination written on his face. "And I will do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen with you." 

"Fuck that. I don't fear you, Rodney. I got worse shit from my swim coach than I ever get from you. So knock it off, okay?" 

"John—" 

"Damn it. I just— I." He slowly sat down on the chair and ran his hand through his hair. "I miss you." He couldn't even look at Rodney. He looked at the ceiling, the floor, the chair, the desk — anyplace except Rodney's face. "I fucked up, pushing you away, and I don't know how to fix it." 

Rodney made a small, derisive noise. "Anyone will tell you that I'm the one that needs fixing. I'm not sure— Huh." 

Steeling himself, John darted a glance in Rodney's direction, but Rodney wasn't looking at him anymore. He seemed to be fascinated by the far wall, the one with the doorway to the bathroom. John saw his hands lift and move, like he was talking to himself, working through one of his technical problems. 

And maybe that's what John was now: a technical problem, something that had to be figured out before it was turned off, and wow, didn't that just make him feel like hell. He couldn't look away from Rodney now that he knew it was safe; Rodney was locked up in his mind somewhere, puzzling over some problem, rather than here in the room with John. 

Rodney's withdrawal gave John the breather he needed. He ran his hand through his hair again and glanced around the room, wondering what the fuck he was doing. He didn't want to piss Rodney off — he liked Rodney, and wanted Rodney to spend the night with him. Getting into an argument like this wasn't going to help him in any way. 

The longer the silence lasted, the worse John felt. He grew more tense, rather than less. He wandered around his quarters, picking up things and putting them down again, simply because moving felt good. Eventually, he found himself staring at the damned honeygold bottles, so he popped the top on the full one and handed it to Rodney. 

"Here." 

"Thanks." Their fingers brushed as John handed him the now-warm bottle, and Rodney looked at him finally, catching John's gaze. There was a flash of something across Rodney's face, and a half-smile appeared. He took the bottle, and reeled John in. 

"I'm still here even if I'm not yelling at you, okay? You're not out of sight, out of mind to me." His gaze darted across John's face, his eyes bright, his voice deep and low. "I don't want to have to yell at you to make sure you know that." 

John blinked. Huh. He'd never really expected Rodney to catch on, but now that he had...something in his voice and his words clicked inside John, and a weight he hadn't even realized he was carrying lessened, and the tight band around his chest eased just a bit. He straightened up, wondering when he'd started slouching. And even though he knew it was stupid to get emotional insight from Rodney McKay, the words and the touch seemed to gentle something, a frantic tension he hadn't recognized inside him. 

Rodney ran his thumb down John's face. "So, uhm... Iwasn'tseeing Heightmeyer becauseofyou." The words all came out in a rush, and John had to really listen to understand what Rodney was saying. 

"You weren't seeing her because of me?" The thought threw John for a loop. 

"No." Rodney looked down at the bottle in his hand. "I was having some... There was... I didn't... I freaked out." Each set of words had a new hand gesture with it, but all of them abrupt and unlike Rodney's normal fluid movements. "Sorry." He turned aside quickly and drank some of the soda, then looked at the bottle in surprise. "Hey, this is good." 

"Yeah. It is." John took the bottle out of Rodney's hand and took a few swallows before handing it back. He'd just assumed that's what Rodney was seeing Heightmeyer about, that Rodney had 'relationship issues' and was trying to work them out by talking to someone other than John — and, well, that just hadn't sat right. The thought that there might be something more to it, that the problems between them were just a piece of the whole... John could empathize. He had more than a few skeletons in his closet himself, ones that came out and visited him on occasion. 

John had walked the line between reality and fantasy before, and had wound up on the wrong side things after Afghanistan. At McMurdo, he'd caved and talked to the shrink about what had happened; he couldn't blame Rodney for doing the same. 

The anger he'd been carrying around for the last few weeks drained out of him, leaving John exhausted. The fact that it wasn't about him was both a relief and a worry; how had he missed that Rodney was so close to shattering? How had he missed — well, whatever it was. He watched Rodney drink some of the soda, watched the way his hands held the bottle, the way he couldn't meet John's eyes. That evasion, that reluctance, was eating at him, and John needed to find a way to make it stop. 

Only he still had no clue about how to do that. "You still seeing her?" 

Rodney nodded, still not looking at him. "Yeah. It's helped." He flashed a kind of bitter half-smile. "It's worse than voodoo, but the one thing I've learned from Atlantis is that sometimes the voodoo works." 

"So what happens now?" 

"You're asking me relationship questions?" Rodney stared at the top of the open bottle, glistening wetly. "How should I know? I'm the one seeing the shrink." Rodney held the bottle to his lips and finally gazed at John, his expression filled with pain and regret. "I guess we say that it was fucked, and then get on with our lives." Rodney's bright eyes closed as he swallowed, his Adam's apple moving up and down, his mouth twisted in an oddly sad look. 

"Ah." John thought about it as he watched Rodney, and decided that wasn't quite good enough. He wasn't about to let them just...drift apart. There wasn't a single thing that Rodney had said that made John believe that he really wanted this separation, so John figured he didn't need to abide by that. Grabbing the bottle from Rodney's hand, he drained it, and tossed the empty into the reuse bin. "How about we don't?" 

"Don't...what?" 

"Don't get on with our lives." He forced himself to look at Rodney rather than give in to the temptation to stare at the floor. "I'm thinking we had a good thing going, and I don't want it to end." 

"What about—" Rodney's hand rolled and flew in such a way that it encompassed every thought and fear they'd had in the past year and tied it up neatly in one little unspoken bundle. 

John didn't give a shit about it. "You don't have to fix everything, and it's not your job to fix me. If I fuck up, I'll fix it. It's what I do." 

"John—" 

Threading a hand through Rodney's, he put his free hand to his own bare chest and put every ounce of sincerity he could into his voice. "I like you a whole hell of a lot, Rodney, but I wanted to make out with you, not...listen to you apologize when I asked you to join me at the pool." He tilted his head slightly as he looked at Rodney, and slid his free hand slowly down to his waistband, watching Rodney's eyes follow its movement. "I really, really, really want to get fucked tonight." 

Rodney closed his eyes and swallowed, his hand trembling in John's. "I only have so much control." 

"Control is overrated." John leaned in and kissed the side of Rodney's neck, letting his tongue dip out for an instant, enjoying the taste of clean skin. "What do you think?" 

"I think that I was really stupid to let you go for so long." Rodney ran his hands up John's arms, pulling him in closer. "Oh, yeah." He angled his head and brushed his lips against John's mouth. Anticipation kindled want, and the feel of Rodney pressed against him transformed it into need. Touching Rodney spoke louder than any words. The two of them were together in this. They were good together. 

The kisses were good, too, sweet at first, then deeper and more fierce, more wanton. John could feel the tickle of short hair as he cupped his hand around the back of Rodney's neck, bringing him in closer, and he could feel the press of Rodney's hand on his ass, urging them together. A small noise escaped him as Rodney abandoned his lips to press kisses against John's neck and to nip at John's earlobe. God, it felt so fucking good. 

"You're really hot, you know?" Rodney's hand slid down to John's pants, tugging at the buttons until they slid free. "You're also smart and incredibly well hung." John hissed as the unacknowledged pressure on his cock eased, and Rodney wrapped his hand around it, giving it a coupled of quick, hard pulls. "And every time I see your hands around one of the Ancient devices—" Rodney nipped at his collarbone, "—I get hard and want to fuck you." His voice held an element of wonder in it. "You do it for me, John, and I don't know why." 

"You don't have to...figure it out." His words came out in broken little pants, and man, Rodney's hands and lips felt really good. He wasn't acting like John was something brittle and fragile and easily broken right now, biting down lightly on one of John's nipples, making John arch in response. 

Words held lies, but touch usually told the truth. Rodney's touch was whispering all sorts of things to him right now, about how Rodney liked him, and wanted him, and that Rodney had missed him. His kisses and touches told John all that, and more. 

John wanted to tell Rodney the exact same thing. 

"Wait—" Stepping back, John gave himself enough room to grab the hem of Rodney's shirt and pull it up over his head and off, leaving his hair a mess. John ran his hand through Rodney's hair, smoothing it slightly, then let his hand drift downward over Rodney's cheek and neck. He loved the way Rodney's chest felt under his hands, warm and soft, the hair coarse, the way his nipples hardened when John brushed them. "What would you think about fucking me on the mattress?" 

Rodney looked at the ten feet separating them from the bed, and turned immediately back to John. "Your carpet's soft." 

"But it's tiny. Look at it. It's barely large enough for your knees and my ass." 

"So don't move. Much." 

"Yeah, okay." John ducked his head and smiled, then glanced up at Rodney. "What if I suck your cock— Oh, sweet Jesus." 

Rodney slid his hands into John's unbuttoned pants and tugged them down enough that they slid the rest of the way down on their own. "Have I mentioned that I love your cock?" Wrapping his hand around the length of John's dick, Rodney gave it a quick squeeze; John rolled back his head and licked his lips. Rodney's hands felt so good around him, big and strong and just...Rodney's hands. 

While Rodney stroked him, he leaned in close enough to speak softly into John's ear. "You can suck me tomorrow. Tonight I want to fuck you hard enough that you'll remember how my cock feels up your ass for the rest of the day." 

John managed to groan out, "God, yeah, sounds good." Then Rodney's hands were gone, and John blinked enough to focus as Rodney took off the last of his clothes, his thick cock red and hard. John would just bet that the head was wet, too. He sank onto his knees, just looking at it. "Come on, Rodney. Not even a lick?" 

Rodney's eyes darkened as he stepped in close to John. "Yeah, get me wet." 

John had absolutely no problem with that. Putting his hands on Rodney's ass, he pulled Rodney in close and licked the head of his wonderfully hard cock. Salty wetness greeted him, and John slid his mouth down over the head and ran his tongue around the tip. Rodney's hand fisted his hair, which was a serious turn on, and John tried to relax his throat so he could take Rodney in deeper. 

"I can't believe you want me," Rodney said. "I don't understand it at all." 

As far as John was concerned, there was nothing to understand, and he tried to use his body to tell Rodney that. He slid his mouth down as far as he could on Rodney's shaft, then a little farther. Rodney's dick felt so hard and hot in his mouth, smooth and silken. He licked as he sucked on it, letting himself go, steadying himself with one hand wrapped around the base and the other gripping Rodney's hip. He could feel Rodney's thighs tremble, felt the slight thrust of his hips as he said things like "more," and "yeah," and "deeper." 

The hands in his hair stopped him before he could go too far. "I still want to fuck you." Rodney's hands were shaky, his voice was shaky, and he could feel Rodney's thighs still quivering, too. 

With a mental sigh and a final lick, John let Rodney pull away. "Nightstand," was all he managed to say, knowing his eyes were begging Rodney to be fast. 

Snatching the lube out of the drawer, Rodney was back before John had time to think more than how great Rodney's ass looked and wow, was his own cock hard. 

Rodney was good like that. A real problem solver. 

Before Rodney would do anything with the lube, though, he made John lie back on the Athosian carpeting. Eagerly, John did, stretching and settling himself into a comfortable position so he could watch Rodney fuck him. He loved the way Rodney's eyes rolled back in his head and the look of total concentration that appeared on his face as he fucked, as if there were nothing else in the world except the two of them: skin, sweat, guttural noises, and all. He spread his thighs wide, and squeezed himself while Rodney watched, watched him touching himself, stroking his own balls, and sliding a finger down behind them. 

Yeah, the guttural noises that Rodney made were really, really good. The carpet bunched up as Rodney slid down onto it and lifted John's ass onto the tops of his thighs, while John hefted his legs over Rodney's shoulders so that Rodney could use the lube. Rodney stared at him, his eyes bright, and laid his hand on John's stomach. Even just that little bit of connection felt damn good, and John could see the thoughts slowing down in Rodney's mind, see him focusing on the idea that he was going to be inside of John soon. 

And John really didn't want to wait. 

It certainly wasn't the most comfortable position, when Rodney slid the first two fingers into him, but John knew how good it would get in just a few minutes, when Rodney was buried deep in him, sweetly thrusting into him at just the right angle, enough to make his toes curl, his back arch, and take his mind to a whole other realm of existence. 

When Rodney entered him, though, he took his time, slowly easing in and out in short jabs that didn't do enough or go far enough for John to get what he wanted. Rodney held back enough that John was frantic by the time he felt Rodney brush up against the sweet spot inside of him. Slow and careful and gentle, just like his words earlier, trying to 'take care' of John when all John really wanted was...a good, hard fucking. Groaning low and deep, words started spilling out of John's mouth, telling Rodney to do it, to fuck him hard and fast, to just get with it already. 

His eagerness made Rodney smile, his face lighting up as he pushed himself deep into John. "Like that, huh?" 

Again with the fucking words. "Oh, yeah. Come on, Rodney. Please." He was begging now, and he didn't care. He was so goddamned close right now, feeling Rodney deep within him; he just needed a little bit more. John managed to move one of his hands — damn, but they felt heavy — and lay it on Rodney's arm; he could feel the hair under his fingers, the damp sheen of sweat. "Let go." 

That's pretty much all it took. John watched Rodney's face transform from its carefully controlled look to one filled with hunger and desire, all of it focused only on John. 

It made John shiver. 

Gripping the carpet in one hand, John wrapped his free hand around his own cock as Rodney thrust into him, hard and fast and dirty. Oh, yes, this was what he wanted, the furious ache within him filled, all of him sensitized to the feel of Rodney surrounding him: the taste of his cock and his kisses still in John's mouth, the scent of sex and sweat blanketing them, the feel of Rodney's cock in his ass and his big hands gliding across John's skin. 

All John could do was ride it now, his hand moving along his shaft, head jerking back and forth, eyes closed as the intensity built and shattered within him, splattering liquid warmth across his chest. He muttered aloud everything about how he felt, how Rodney fucked him so good, how he missed this, missed them, missed Rodney's cock in his ass. Things he never normally said, but tonight, whatever internal shields he had were gone, gone, gone, and John didn't care how needy he sounded. 

"Oh. Oh, Oh." Rodney's voice dragged him back; he wasn't the only one sounding needy. "God, John. You're. Yeah." 

Rodney's hips twisted a couple of times as he tensed up, panting in little moans and gasps as he froze, his head thrown back, arms rigid, and John could feel Rodney's dick pushing deep into his ass, long hot wet pulses. John couldn't help but feel a little smug at getting to Rodney like that. 

After, Rodney lay down on the floor beside him, resting his head on John's chest, carding his fingers through the now-matted and sticky hair there. "Make-up sex. What a great idea." 

John aimed a kiss at the top of Rodney's head, as that was the only part of his body John could reach. "I have them occasionally." Rodney grunted and snuggled up closer, knitting himself to John's side, his arm over John's chest. They breathed together in warmth and companionship; so much better than being alone. 

It didn't take long before the floor got kinda hard, and the carpet really wasn't as soft as John had first thought. He rolled onto his side, feeling the twinges in his legs and ass that reminded him of what they'd just done; he couldn't help smiling. 

Once again, Rodney had been right. He was going to be feeling this all day tomorrow. 

"I'd like to spend the night." Rodney's voice was clear and strong, and totally like himself. 

John looked at him, and knew his smile must have been a bit goofy. "Like I'd kick you out of bed." 

"Oh, thank God. I didn't want to leave just yet." Rodney didn't bother with getting dressed, just put his radio within reach should something happen, wiped off, and slid under the covers. He looked good there, the white sheets crisp. He was all hot looking, his eyes dilated, beard shadow sculpting his face, hair messed up and in total disarray. 

Too bad he was too tired to get it up again, because Rodney looked really fuckable right now. Instead, after a quick trip to the bathroom to wash up, John slid in next to him, bumping him slightly with his hips to make Rodney give him more room. 

They worked out an accommodation, John's arm comfortably around Rodney's waist, Rodney's head pillowed on John's arm, and John's mind started to drift, his hand absently stroking Rodney's side. He like this, liked having Rodney here with him. They'd just have to figure something out. 

"No tickling," Rodney said grumpily, interrupting John's train of thought. 

John smiled and closed his eyes. 


End file.
